


Black

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2020 [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Day 15, Dean Winchester Whump, Demon Castiel, Into The Unknown, M/M, Molestation, POV Dean Winchester, Possession, Season/Series 04, Shooting, Stabbing, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Dean meets the thing that raised him from Hell, and it's not ready to play nice.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Non-Consensual Pairings
Series: Whumptober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947223
Kudos: 16
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Black

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2020
> 
> No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN
> 
> Possession

“You think this thing’s gonna show itself, Bobby?” Dean asked.

The barn was warded against everything they could think of, but Dean still worried. What was powerful enough to break glass, and burst eardrums, and burn Pamela’s eyes out without even touching her? How was there anything at all that could do that?

“It’s got to, right?”

Dean tilted his head in lieu of a shrug.

“Guess we have to wait till—”

The barn doors crashed in in splinters of wood. As this thing, the thing that was dressed like some businessman in a douchey trench coat of all things, walked in, the lights blew out. One by one.

Without a thought, Dean was firing.

And firing.

The shotgun shells hit, and they bled, but it kept walking, unfazed.

Bobby was firing.

They ran out of ammo.

Fuck.

Dean grabbed the demon-killing knife, and tried to run up and stab the bastard, but Dean’s wrist was grabbed. The thing tilted its head at him. There was darkness in those eyes, and age, power unlike anything Dean had ever seen.

This couldn’t be Lilith, could it?

“Hello, Dean Winchester.”

Dean repressed a shudder.

“So you’re the son of a bitch that brought me back?”

“Somewhat. I had help.”

“Yeah, and where’s that douche-nozzle?”

“It’s unimportant.”

Fuck, in any other circumstance this dude would be fucking attractive, what with his dark hair, and those blue, blue eyes. And god, that face. It was almost sinful.

It twisted Dean’s wrist, crushing bone together. Dean cried out. The knife fell.

Bobby tried to step in to help, but with a wave of his hand, the thing had him unconscious. Bobby slumped to the floor.

Dean could barely breathe.

“What do you want?” Dean asked.

The son of a bitch didn’t answer, and instead brought their mouths together. Dean cringed, and then he tried to scream at the black smoke that began to fill into him. It went in, and in, and in, until he needed to breathe, and then some.

His view of the barn became hazy, and then it blinked away. Dean was left in absolute darkness.

He turned, knowing he wasn’t alone.

“What the hell is this?” Dean roared.

The gravelly, horrible, yet sexy, voice thundered around him, “I’m in your body, in your head.”

“Congrats. Ever think about taking a guy out to dinner first?”

The demon didn’t respond. But the barn materialized around him. It was faded, incorporeal. Even with Bobby and the weapons gone, he wasn’t alone. The demon stalked towards Dean, hungry.

Dean held his ground, refusing to back up against the wall. The bastard was already here, so running was pointless.

God, was this how Sam had felt with Meg? Being violated? Being stuck in his own head?

Dean held his arms out. “Well, you got me where you want me. You gonna drag this out, or you gonna get down to the sexy part?”

In an instant, the demon was upon Dean, grabbing his throat and slamming him into the floor. He choked, gagged, and his back and lungs hurt with the force of the stone against him trying to make his air leave him. Dean gagged, and clawed at the hand. His vision had black spots in it. And oh god, oh god, oh god! Those blue eyes were searing into him, and there was nothing human about the way this demon observed him.

The grip lightened.

“Can I at least get a name?”

“Castiel.”

“And what fucking meatsuit is this?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not. You just like going for the ride, or did that body come with some decent upgrades?”

“Upgrades?”

Dean glanced down at the body that had forced its way in between his legs. The demon followed his gaze, and then smirked.

“Oh. Yes.”

“So, you just possess hung dudes, or is there more to you than that? You like branding, disabling innocent women… What’s next?”

“This.”

Lips were against Dean’s, and that hand around his throat tightened. He tried to struggle.

The world faded around him, but the touch remained, and that thick, heavy body ground down against him. The dude was already hard, leaving Dean close to gasping and moaning with hellish want.

Fuck!

In the real world, his body saw the other one collapsed on the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds. The poor guy looked peaceful like that. And yet, this was his fault.

Dean had lured him out.

Dean had killed that innocent son of a bitch.

Just like that, a life snuffed out because of Dean’s own stupidity.

He tried to fight as his body picked up the knife and went over to Bobby.

Dean struggled, shoved against the demon holding him down. He struggled till that hand bruised his neck, till he was gagging, till he could barely see.

But he _could_ see. He could feel.

Eyes flashed black as the knife was twirled.

Dean thought desperately, _Please don’t do this._

Even with this thing trying to get in his pants, and with his lips against him, it still spoke. The voice emanated from everywhere, and rattled down to his bones. _I want to._

That was more sickening than if he _had_ to do this. But this wasn’t about orders, or some higher fucking purpose, or some greater demonic good or some shit. He just wanted to.

_Cas, buddy, you can fuck off._

There was no response.

Dean’s body stabbed into Bobby, crashing down onto the floor.

Dean tried to scream, but his belt and jeans had been undone, and that surprisingly large and strong hand was pumping his cock. The grip was hard, almost too hard. Just what Dean liked. But of course it knew that. It surely knew everything about him. Dean wasn’t just an open book. No, no, that was too kind, too peaceful for what this was. This thing had sliced him open from collarbone to pelvis, and had torn his skin back, looking at the blood, the organs, everything inside him in gruesome, sickening detail.

Bobby’s blood on his hands. Bobby’s blood on his hands.

_Sphhlt!_

Another stab.

Blood on his face.

Dean cried in his head, even as he bucked into the demonic son of a bitch.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!_

_STOP!_ Dean begged. _OH GOD, PLEASE STOP!_

_Sphhlt!_

_NO, NO! **NO! STOP!**_

Bobby’s body was mutilated with Dean’s own hands.

And that sinful hand stroked him, pumped him. Dean was as hard as a tire iron, body straining. His body struggled for breath. His head buzzed. Tears leaked from his eyes.

Just before he got off, that voice said, as he knelt in all the blood pooling on the floor, feeling it soak into his clothes till he wanted to puke for eternity, _Now time to pay Sam a visit._

Castiel got Dean to cum.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally trying to catch up. Today's story will be coming soon. Was supposed to post this yesterday, but, well... yeah.


End file.
